


natural progression, and the stages of not quite love

by santanico



Series: coming to terms with the unexpected and the unconditional [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Dates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Kate go on a date. Try to say that without it being a catchy rhyme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	natural progression, and the stages of not quite love

**Author's Note:**

> You probably wanna read the first 2 parts, unless you're into random bits of fic.

The days that follow can’t be described in many ways. Clint watches Kate snake in and out of his apartment, brush against him with more intimacy, and react to him in ways that she never had before. She smiles and she seems genuinely pleased and happy and Clint can’t help but smile back.

The sex is amazing. Scratch that, the sex is fucking epic. Not only is Kate actually really good at damn near everything she does with a bow and arrow, but she is also an expert at making Clint lose his mind. Which isn’t exactly a surprise, but it’s pleasant, nonetheless.

When Kate finally leaves the apartment, it’s with a still smile. She doesn’t kiss him goodbye or even show any sign of interest in him beyond a tap on the shoulder with her fist, but the vibrations between them keep Clint from worrying. 

“See you later, Hawkeye,” she teases as she yanks her sneakers on. It’s warm outside and he watches her hitch onto her bike and ride down the street. If there’s anyone he’s not worried about getting home safely on their own, it’s Kate. It’s actually a little bit funny, thinking about someone trying to stop her and mug her – Kate is small and thin and appears vulnerable, but Clint can attest to the ass kicking he’s suffered at her hands.

When he steps back upstairs into his own apartment he sighs. Lucky is watching him and he says to the dog “You want pizza?” then shakes his head. “I’ll get you some food.” He makes a mental note that they – no, he is running out of dog food. No matter what happens, he and Kate aren’t some kind of synchronized couple, and the dog isn’t theirs or anything. Clint wouldn’t even say the dog is his because the dog goes where he wants and does what he wants and just uses Clint and Kate for eating and hugs. “Smart dog,” Clint mutters as he sets the bowl of food and then a second one with water in front of Lucky. Lucky wags his tail and starts eating.

It isn’t until that night that Clint starts feeling guilty again, and he can’t quite figure out why. Stuff with Kate was – good. That was the only way he could put it. They just worked, for whatever reason. He had spent a good deal of time ignoring that natural chemistry, but Kate was compassionate and she was smart and she didn’t overlook his bullshit. But for whatever reason, she cared about him. And she wanted to kiss him. And sleep with him. And do all kinds of bullshit like order take-out and watch TV and bad movies and make-out on the couch.

It was weird in ways. Amazing in others. He didn’t like the thoughts he had, rolling onto his side and adjusting his pillow, about how he thought she deserved better. Clint isn’t normally so self-deprecating, or maybe he is and he just pretends not to be. But Katie is young and free and he doesn’t want her to be stuck. On the other hand, she’s also an adult who can make her own choices, and she had kissed him first.

He had even tried to avert sleeping with her for as long as possible. But in ways it was natural progression. Not because she was a cute younger woman with a spitfire personality that Clint had secretly wanted to bang for a long time anyway. And not because he was some mysterious older guy with a dark past who attracted young girls. Those things certainly weren’t close to true. Rather, Clint determines, it’s because of the way they fit. It just is. They just _are_.

He buries his head in his pillow. She’s only been gone for a few hours now, not even half a day, and he’s already aching for her, a weird half-sexual feeling. He doesn’t want to be having sex, he wants to be having sex with Kate. He doesn’t want to be physically intimate, he wants to be physically intimate with _Kate_. And that makes his relationship with her, however it be defined, different. 

Kate is the priority.

He groans and throws a hand over his face. Lucky comes in to lay down next to his bed. It feels empty without Kate in the room, without her warming the space beside him.

How embarrassing. He thinks about her lips. Her eyes.

He calls her the next day at noon, after he finally wakes up, and asks if she wants to go to dinner.

“Are you asking me on a date?” Kate’s voice is dry as if she doesn’t believe him. Clint scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Uh, I think so,” he admits, leaning against the refrigerator. He considers for a moment taking out a beer and getting buzzed for the whole day, but decides against it. That wouldn’t bode well. “What do you say? You can say no. It’s not a huge deal.”

Kate laughs under her breath. “That’s what people say when it’s a big deal,” she tells him, and then adds, “it’s not like we haven’t been on dates before.”

“Context,” he points out, and thinks about the last few days. “We never had sex before going on those other dates.” Blunt is better than dancing around the subject. He starts to pace, shoving a hand in the front pocket of his sweats. He should probably get dressed, go out and get dog food and lunch meat and whatever else catches his eye. 

“Fair point,” Kate says. “Tonight? Tomorrow? When?”

“Is that a yes?” Clint asks warily. “I don’t want to give you a date and time and have you laugh in my face.”

“Do I have to tell you again that I’m not just sleeping with you because you’re a good lay?” Kate counters. Clint smiles. “It’s a yes. Now give me an idea of when we’ll be meeting and where.”

“I…actually hadn’t really thought about it.” He winces as Kate huffs. “Um, how about you come over, beforehand. We can take a taxi, I have a place in mind, you know, some nice place downtown that I haven’t been to in a while.” He clears his throat. “I think you’ll like it?”

“Don’t say that like a question. It only makes me think you’re lying.”

“Ah, um. Well.”

Kate laughs. He wonders where she is. If she’s sitting on her bed, painting her nails, or getting ready to make herself a sandwich or something for lunch. He wonders, a little selfishly, if she misses him. He cringes at himself. Focus on something else.

“So what time?”

“How about 5:30, tomorrow??” He wants her there as soon as possible, but he also knows that he can’t ask for too much. Balance seems incredibly hard the more he thinks about it. How is he supposed to date Kate, kiss Kate, have sex with Kate, and still remember to go about the rest of his life? This was all originally on his to NOT do list, and now.

Now it is what it is, and he accepts that.

Kate agrees to 5:30. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, with a hint of teasing in her tone that Clint almost misses.

“Yeah, see you,” he says, and the line goes dead.

Kate’s going to work him to the brink of death and then ask him to get up and run three more laps.

She shows up the next night, almost exactly punctual, and Clint has to stare. He just has to. There isn’t a way to get around it.

“You look stunning.”

She rolls her eyes and pushes past him into the apartment, tugging off her heels. “Do you have any beer?” she asks and Clint trails after her frowning. “I could really use a beer. The cab driver wouldn’t shut up. He’s lucky I bothered to tip him.”

Clint doesn’t stop her from pulling out a can of beer and cracking it open. She sips with her pink mouth and finally looks at him. He takes a second to adjust to her in the strapless deep violet dress, bare legs, pastel pink nails. She’s got a silvery choker necklace that would look out of place on anyone else, her hair French braided down her back. He wonders how she did that but decides not to question her methods.

“You look great,” he says and she smiles this time while rolling his eyes. “I mean it.”

She steps forward, still holding her beer but dropping her heels on the floor, and pulls a band aid off of his nose. He winces.

“You look like shit.”

“Brutal.” But true.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

“…No?” He looks down at his jeans and t-shirt and clears his throat. “Ahem.”

“Good. Now hurry up and get changed, I’m looking forward to being at least mildly impressed tonight.”

When she turns around he can’t help but grin. Her dress zips up the back. It’s too good to be true.

Clint heads into the bedroom and opens a few drawers before finding a nice pair of slacks that he hasn’t touched in months, black and straight-legged. He pulls them on and spends ten minutes looking at different button up shirts, finally picking one with long sleeves that roll and button up. That the shirt is a light shade of lavender is an accident, and one he knows he’ll be teased for relentlessly for a very long time.

“You clean up alright,” Kate says, crushing the empty beer can in her bare hand (which is ridiculously hot) and throwing it in the bag where he keeps the recyclables. “I’m still not sure where we’re going. Did you make a reservation.”

He hesitates.

“That’s a no,” Kate says and slips her shoes back on. Open toed black heels with a strap around her ankles. “Stop staring.”

“Er. Okay.”

She links her arm in his and he locks the door behind them. He admires her from the side, trying not to look too close. She doesn’t seem nervous, and why would she be, but there’s something slightly off about her step. And she isn’t quite close enough. 

He hails a taxi and they step in. “Romano’s, please,” he says and the driver nods.

“Date night?” the driver asks and Kate sighs.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” Clint mutters under his breath before answering, “Yes, actually.” He glances over at Kate and sees her smiling, chin tucked against her collar bone and arms crossed under her breasts. “I’m taking my lady out for a fancy night on the town. Drinking, dinner, dancing. We’re gonna do everything.”

“Oh, are we?” Kate shoots back in a whisper. She’s still smiling and he grins at her. The cab driver isn’t paying them much attention, just nodding as he makes a turn. The drive should only be something like fifteen minutes, and so far it’s lifting Clint’s spirits. All the nerves, all of the longing, it dissipates. Being with Katie is like a cure, and while he thinks maybe he should be a little afraid of what that means, he just keeps smiling because she’s smiling. That makes everything alright, even if it really just isn’t.

“Here you are,” the cabbie says, and Clint notes the price and pulls out his wallet, leans into the front seat and pays with cash, tips the man. Kate is standing on the sidewalk with her hands clasped together in front of her when Clint finally steps out.

They smile at each other, again. It’s almost uncharacteristic because Kate isn’t making fun of him and he’s not sighing or exhausted.

Dinner is dinner. It’s what he expects. Kate orders the most expensive thing on the menu she can find that also sounds appealing (her words) and Clint gets steak because he hasn’t had a good steak in so long and he can give Lucky the bone to gnaw on and earn some brownie points. He shakes his head when he realizes he’s trying to earn the favor of a dog. Not really his biggest priority.

The best thing is that Kate seems happy. She grins and laughs and drinks her wine with a wiggle of her shoulders. “I don’t get to go out much,” she says, “as I’m sure you know.” She lets out a sigh and leans back in her chair, licking her lips. The pink lipstick she has on is only now beginning to fade, but it leaves a soft stain that Clint loves to look at. “Trying to manage school and being a superhero and taking care of you,” she says, closing her eyes and shaking her head. She’s still smiling though, and she sips her wine carefully.

“Well, I’m glad I could take you out.”

“It’s almost summer,” Kate says, turning and looking towards the front of the restaurant. They’re situated at a nice table near the back, a quiet area where the only person who bothers them is their waiter. “I miss the heat.”

Clint nods, though he doesn’t really agree. Winter sucks, sure, but there’s nothing like pulling out your portable heater and curling up on the sofa with two blankets and marathoning a shitty TV show. But maybe that’s just him. And maybe that would be even better with someone else.

“Summer is just more free,” Kate continues, resting her elbow on the table and leaning on her hand. Their food arrives and she sits up, pulling out her napkin to put it on her lap. It’s interesting for Clint to watch her pretend to be serious, to pretend to be new to fancy restaurants when he knows the opposite is the truth and she’s just placating him. They eat is mostly silence. “You said you were going to dance with me,” Kate says as she’s finishing off her side. Clint can’t tell what exactly she ordered and doesn’t bother to say.

“I did say that,” he agrees. “You’re not drunk, are you?” he asks as she stands, but it’s too late to get an answer now. Kate grabs his sleeve and pulls Clint to his feet and her follows her as she heads towards the open floor. It’s classy; there’s even a man playing a piano in the corner, though there’s no one else dancing on the hardwood floors.

She leads, which isn’t exactly surprising. The fact that she’s dancing while tipsy is impressive and Clint takes extra care not to step on her toes. It’s a basic waltz. He’s danced with her before, even with drunk Kate before, but it’s never quite been like this. She leads for a few short minutes before they end up back adjusted to Clint with a hand on her waist, the other clasped in hers. Their bodies are close and Kate whispers against his cheek, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“You’re drunk, Kate,” he says, smoothing his hand over the back of her dress. “I’m not going to take advantage of you while you’re drunk.”

She hums and rests her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sad, Clint.”

“Alcohol does that,” he murmurs as they continue to take up most of the floor. Another couple is leaning into each other closer to the piano, maybe purposely avoiding Clint and Kate’s wide steps. Clint smiles.

“It’s not that,” Kate whispers. He believes her and strokes a hand down her back, attempting to be soothing. “I just feel so sad.”

“It’s okay,” Clint lies. “It’ll pass. Don’t worry.”

“Are we done eating?”

“I think so.”

“Can we stay here for a little longer?”

Clint nods and kisses the side of her head. “Yes, we can.”

He takes her home at almost midnight. It isn’t even that she’s drunk anymore, just half asleep from exhaustion. They stumble into the cab and head home and he deposits her on the bed, only taking off her shoes before he strips into his own boxers and a t-shirt and crawls into bed next to her.

They can talk about being sad some other time, when Kate is sober and ready to tell Clint her secrets.


End file.
